[Fantasy Ending] Chainsaw Man: Reze Chapter - Fujimoto Tsuki's Fantasy Novel : Makima and Denji 's Fictional Paradise

 

[Fantasy Ending] Chainsaw Man : Reze Chapter - Fujimoto Tsuki's Fantasy Novel : Makima and Denji 's Fictional Paradise

 

Chapter Six: The Death of the Self

The interior of that black tower was not as gloomy and bloody as one might imagine; instead, it was blindingly bright, so bright that it evoked a sense of pure despair.

The walls, floors, and ceiling were all made of an unnamed, flawless, pure white material. There was no measure of time's passage, no wind's movement, and even the scent of the air had been completely sucked away. This was an absolute stillness , a cleansed ward for the soul. Makima led Dianzhi , stepping silently onto the floor, towards the very top of the tower. There, there were no superfluous decorations, only a large gray sofa facing a perpetually bright, falsely radiant daylight.

" Denji-kun , we've arrived." Makima sat down gracefully, patted her knees, and looked at him with an almost maternal tenderness. "This is the end of our journey. From today onward, you no longer need to fight, you no longer need to think, and you no longer need to... bear the heavy burden of the identity of ' Denji '."

Dianzhi knelt blankly at Makima's feet. His body was still intact, but his soul was like an old garment that had been repeatedly disassembled and hastily sewn back together.

"What is ' Denji ' ? " he asked in a low voice. His voice was so soft that if he raised it even slightly, the name would dissipate like dust.

“‘ Yoji ’ is a name filled with pain, hunger, and filth .” Makima’s fingers, like plucking delicate strings, gently pressed against his temples, the coldness of her fingertips seeping into his cerebral cortex. “That name carries the burden of a father who committed suicide due to debt, the guilt of being forced to eat his own father, the humiliation of fighting for food with stray dogs in a garbage dump… and those you thought you loved, who ultimately died because of you.”

As she spoke, the remaining fragments in Denji's mind began to burn .

He saw Pochita curled up deep in his heart, whimpering uneasily.

He saw Hayakawa Aki wearing that slightly faded apron, intently chopping scallions in the cramped kitchen, the sound of the knife blade striking the cutting board clearly audible.

He saw Pava pointing at the cartoon on TV, laughing and revealing his sharp canine teeth, declaring that he was the master of the world.

He saw Leijie reach out her hand to him in the rain, her eyes filled with a sorrow he couldn't understand at the time.

"These... hurt so much." Denji sobbed, it was a physiological, instinctive reaction. His consciousness had been numbed by Makima's dominance, but his body's cells still remembered those emotions and were secreting tears for him.

"Yes, because it's a deadly poison called 'Self'." Makima's voice was filled with a deadly allure as she whispered in Denji 's ear, "Give it to me, and you will gain eternal peace. You will become the perfect shell for Pochita, a part of my will. You will no longer be Denji wandering the slums ; you will be ' Chainsaw Man ,' my hero, the only being in this world who doesn't have to suffer."

Dianzhi slowly closed his eyes.

Deep within his consciousness, the "Forbidden Gate," which had always existed and was covered with countless runes and chains, appeared before him. This time, no terrifying memories surged forth from behind the gate, nor did any childhood nightmares resurface; only an endless, all-consuming, deathly blackness remained.

Pochita let out a long, mournful wail in the darkness. It was his companion of many years bidding him a final farewell.

"Pochita... I 'm sorry," Denji whispered weakly in his heart . "I'm really tired. Being human... it 's just too painful . If being a dog that doesn't need to think, doesn't need to dream, and only needs to obey Miss Makima could bring this kind of happiness of no longer getting hurt... would n't that be nice?"

At that very moment, Yodo felt a "crack" sound coming from the core of his brain.

That was the sound of a certain personality structure completely breaking and shattering. His last trace of heartache for " Reige ", his brotherly attachment to "Qiu", and his family-like promise to "Pawa" all turned into pale ashes at this moment, evaporated by the strong light in the tower .

His ambition, his desires, and his foolish, though vulgar, energy—all vanished with that snapping sound.

When Denji opened his eyes again, those amber pupils, which had once been full of wild beastly energy and sparkling with a desire for survival, had completely turned into stagnant water, just like Makima's.

He stopped crying.

He stopped trembling.

Even his breathing became extremely regular, like a finely tuned instrument.

"Miss Makima," he spoke, his tone flat and cold, devoid of any emotion, like an echo from the abyss, "please give your orders."

Looking at the "masterpiece" before her, Makima revealed the most radiant and satisfied smile of her life. She reached out and gently stroked his face as if caressing a flawless piece of porcelain fresh from the kiln .

"Good boy/girl."

Outside the window, the false, intense sunlight still shone brightly on the gray forest, while from somewhere came the mournful chirping of cicadas. The cries were sharp and persistent, as if tolling a death knell for the final burial of a soul.

The trip has come to an end.

The boy named Denji died in this beautiful white tower.

The one who survived was merely a plaything with a veneer of decency, but whose heart was completely filled with a sense of domination, possessing "perfect happiness."

In some corner of the world, the coffee shop where Reige once stayed, the dilapidated apartment where the Hayakawa family once lived, and the decadent bar where Kishibe once drank— the presence of "Denji" is rapidly fading until it becomes completely transparent .

He achieved the happiness he had always dreamed of: a life free from want and loved.

The price was that he disappeared from his own life forever. (...To be continued...)